EGG
by walkingthroughwalls
Summary: A different end to The Other end Of the telescope. The first chapter is almost identical to the beginning of the episode. then it goes in a completely different direction. Hint: Grace ends up in the hospital. Eventually GE please ignore summary...
1. Morning coffee Grace's POV

"Grace!"

"Grace! Honey, it's nine thirty. What time does your father want you at the restaurant?"

"I don't care…" I groaned, willing her to go away.

"Grace,"

"What?"

"I shouldn't have to get you up."

"Then don't." I rolled over, clutching my pillow to my ears.

There was a loud obnoxious beeping coming from downstairs. _Thank God!_ For once, Zoë's timing was perfect.

I didn't mind getting up now. It was just Mom's constant yelling that made me want to retreat farther into my warm cocoon of blankets.

I pushed back my sheets and placed my feet on the floor, wincing as the ice cold absorbed into my blood and shot throughout my entire body. I shivered. I needed something hot.

I trudged down the stairs, the awful smell of smoke attaching itself to every particle of air. I came into the kitchen to hear Zoë whining,

"I only wanted to make Daddy's birthday cake."

"Daddy likes German chocolate," I snickered as I entered. Not ash cake.

"I don't know how to make that," she admitted, "and get out of my life," she added nastily as I covered my mouth to try and hide my laugh and my "oh my God."

I tuned out Mom's and Zoë's banter as I opened the junk drawer.

"Mom, do we have any ribbon? I have to finish wrapping Dad's present."

"Kids, you have to go get dressed," she replied exasperated.

I rolled my eyes and marched up the stairs. I knew what I was going to wear. The only problem was: how was I going to where it? I mean an outfit can look great on a mannequin and look completely out of place and stupid on me…

Oh well. I slipped out of my comfortable warm pj's and turned to grab my shirt when I caught myself in the mirror.

_Why is it that when you have a full length mirror you're always using the one that only reaches your shoulders? Oh, that's right, you just…don't want…to see. What's the word? Shame._

I touched my brown hair. The ends could use a trim, but I didn't like that straight, neat, orderly look that a trim gives it. I sigh and finish dressing with my back turned and my eyes closed.

_For once I want to believe that I could be impulsive. Believe myself when I say maybe I'll cut my hair myself; my way…….. Yeah, right. _

I scrambled back down the stairs; I wanted to get out of here as fast as I could.

"Look at you. You look beautiful." Judy was here. I love Judy, but she's just so different…especially from me; so far away.

"I'm working at the restaurant," I suppressed a grimace.

"As a hostess," Mom said with the hint of a smile (possibly pride?).

"As a person who seats people," I sighed.

_Why does she always make everything BIGGER? I think it's because I don't make her proud enough so she has to look for it in meaningless trivial stuff. _

"Wow, Sunday brunch. Now that's a fun crowd," _Judy tries, she really does, and it's not like an invading privacy comment._

"I don't even know why I'm doing this," I grumbled.

"Because you made a commitment," Mom just has to add.

"I know," I sighed, "it's just I have so much homework. I really think I should just give him his present and leave."

"It was your idea to work at the restaurant; not your dad's and certainly not mine."

"Fine. I'll go."

Why does she have to make me feel guilty about wanting to back out of something Dad had guilted me into in the first place. She makes me feel like I'm committing a crime against her. _That's me, Grace the Hardcore Criminal. _

That's when Rick walks in. He's looking particularly weary and wet. I can feel a twinge of sympathy, but then everything else takes over.

"Mom, I really have to go. Dad wants me there at least an hour before we open," I add impatiently_. It's just when Rick's in the room, how do I put this? It makes me want to leave it._

"But you haven't even brushed your hair,"

"I can do it at the restaurant. Can we go?" I don't care how it looks, I want to leave.

"I can take you. I have to open the store anyway," Judy suggests hesitantly. God Bless Aunt Judy!

"Okay! Let's go!"


	2. Enough Jake's POV

_I have a funny little ritual with birthdays. Ignore them. The restaurant is excellent for birthdays. I can keep myself so busy I almost forget…almost._

"Dad, when can we celebrate your birthday?" Grace laughs impatiently. It's a beautiful sound.

"Not for awhile," I force a strained chuckle through my throat.

_How about never? Let's just stay here and work and forget. It's an ordinary day._

I set Grace to work and then I continue my motion of madness. One minute I'm at one table, comfortably talking, and then I'm at another, pretending to be comfortably talking.

_I love the restaurant environment because…it keeps me out of my head and out in the land of people._ _I guarantee that the quickest way to learn a language would be in a restaurant because their underlying, but ever present, meaning is __**communication.**_

I snuck up behind Grace and tried to make her laugh, teasing her about "boyfriends" (God forbid).

_Why can't I just keep her forever?_

But everyone has their communication barriers; Benny and Jean- Carlo. The spineless shy boy and the pampered brat, what a combination.

Everything seems to have calmed down a bit since I sent Benny home. He's a good boy, the only problem is he can't be pushed. He has trouble staying in balance; a castle of cards that is precariously leaning on one card.

But then I saw him again.

"Benny! I thought I told you to go home," I tried to stay calm but I didn't want to cause a scene. _Just go home, kid!_

"Mr. Manning, Please get out of the way. I just need to speak with Jean- Carlo." He sounded much more eager than I had ever heard him express before but he wasn't having any of my coaxing. And then time…well time didn't matter. Only one thing mattered. The silver barrel Benny had pulled from out of his jacket pocket. _He's got a gun! _Looks like Benny just grew a spine.

Time has stopped, but my blood is pumping faster than ever. It's making it hard to think. I need this all to end. It has gone on for too long. Benny is nervous and scared. His clothes that had started so pristine this morning are now loose and grimy. He's sweating. And jumping at any movement. The phone rings, making even me jump (Maybe I'm acting just like Benny). _We're both scared._

I look over at him; wait for his nod of approval. _It makes the world seem completely upside down; me asking him for permission._

He gives a shaky jerk of the head. I pick up the phone.

Hello?

_Help._

The phone call put Benny over the edge. He started pacing again. He kept the gun clutched in his hand. With the phone in my pocket I was probably more anxious than he was. I was surprised my sweat and the pulsing heat from the cell hadn't burnt a hole right through my shirt pocket.

I heard a rustle behind me. _I let him out of my sight for one minute._ I turned to find Benny standing too close to Grace. I could taste the tension. I felt like spitting.

"Hey, Benny!" I called my voice clipped and angry. I saw the look on his face. Then he

pulled Grace sharply by the arm towards the back pantry. _What's he doing?!_ I didn't acknowledge the people I pushed out of the way, only that there were too many. I reached the door just as he closed it. Not enough time to stop it. Enough to see Grace's scared expression as he held the silver barrel to her temple. Enough to hear her muffled scream as he shoved her in.

My fists connected with the door. Crash! Pound!Pound!

"Benny! Benny!" my voice was cracking with thunder and emotion. Anger. Love. Fear.

I stopped screaming, never stopping my vicious attack of the door. My voice was hoarse and my throat was on fire.

"Dad," It was barely a whisper. It was a plea.

He had her pressed right up against the door. The door was thin enough to hear almost everything. But heavy enough that if I smashed it down it would kill her. So I had to stop and wait. And Listen.

It was almost like I could see everything through a glass window; only every image wasn't seen it was heard. I'm not sure if I actually seeing it would be any worse than the images that were conjured in my mind.

_**My**__ little girl… I'm gonna kill him._

"Please stop, No! Don't!"

_Oh God._

Then I heard it. The scariest sound I have ever heard in my life. Shot. And then again. My hands were shaking.

"Grace?" My voice is shaking.

I heard the most heart wrenching sound that hoped never to hear.

"Daddy," There was need. There was pain. There was defeat.

I didn't feel the door burst beneath my shoulder. I didn't hear the splintering shatter. I did see her crumpled body on the floor. I did smell the blood. I did brush her hair out of her eyes. I did carry her to through the door. I did collapse. _I did cry._


	3. Muffled Lily's POV

"Jake! Jake!"

I heard the hostage situation counselor's voice grow louder. Panic.

"What's going on?!" My voice cracked.

_When Grace was five she climbed into Zoë's baby carriage and turned it over. There was so much blood. Jake's white shirt was completely soaked as he carried her into the emergency room. He was shaking. She was so calm. Perfectly still. _

"Mrs. Manning, we're just not sure what's going on. The feed seems to have **changed**."

The way the officer said "changed" didn't sit well with me. It was darker than the other words.

"What do mean?!" I could barely stand to hear myself. I was so shrill. I was so scared.

"Let me listen."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," He sounds unsure.

"That's my family." I sound final.

He gives a curt nod of the head. Defeated.

I grab one of the headsets and press it tight to my ear. The sound rushes in; muffled and scratchy, but it's there; loud.

"Benny! Benny!" Jake's voice is anxious, followed by a muffled banging sound.

"Jake!"

His voice cuts off, replaced with heavy panting. A muffled scream. Grace's. There is a catch in his breathing. A muffled sob. Jake's.

"Jake?" My voice has gone quiet. Unlike my heart; thundering in my ears. Unlike my blood; rushing to my feet. Soon I won't be able to stand. Soon I won't be able to rub the black out of the corners of my eyes. Soon I will lose everything completely.

Then **it** came. **It** sent me over the edge. **It** made me drop the headphones and start screaming at the top of my lungs. The most gut- wrenching, animal- like, guttural sounds ever expressed; the cries of anguish.

"Oh my God," I could barely hear it. But I heard the next part quite clearly.

"Someone call 911!"

I lifted my head and saw a struggling figure coming ever closer. At first I could swear I saw a black hood over his head. Then I saw what was in his arms and everything else fell away. Everything went black. My scream echoing in my head as I fell down that precious black tunnel.


	4. War and Peace Eli's POV

I couldn't believe where I was. I wouldn't register why. I refused to believe that She was involved. She wasn't involved in all of this drama, She was at home, finishing her homework, reading about drama somewhere else. She was **not** in the middle of it.

The scream pulled me out of my fog. I swerved around frantically; searching for a sign. A sign I should give up hope. I prayed to God I didn't find one.

Dad was on the ground. Cradling a fainted Lily in his arms gently. I rushed through the crowd over to him.

"What happened?!" I asked frantically.

Dad just hugged Lily to him tighter, slowly rising with her in his arms. Like rocking a baby to sleep.

He gulped and looked straight ahead. He jerked his head. I looked at him confused. He jerked his head again.

"They're out." His voice was raspy and caught, like he had to **push** the words out of his throat.

I followed his gaze, slowly turning my head; dreading.

There was a man hunched over the ground. As I stepped forward I could hear him. _How is that a simple sound can make you want to…walk right into oblivion?_

Please. God. Buddha. Anyone.

I collapsed beside him.

"Is she…?" I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat; the beginnings of a sob, the beginnings of vomit. I was surprised that he looked up, I could barely hear myself in my own head; too afraid at what I might think, might say, the answers.

His eyes were blood shot but there was no sign of defeat in them.

I broke his gaze and looked down. Her shirt was slightly ripped. Her lips were swollen and bleeding. She had a cut on her forehead, a bruise developing around her right eye. I brought her hand to my face. Her fingernails were jagged and short. _Grace, she's slightly insecure, but she doesn't care about the perfection of her appearance. I kind of… like that._

There was dirt caught underneath them, and…blood?

I wrapped my arms underneath her frame; wincing at the feeling of warm wetness.

I picked her up and trudged to the flashing lights. As I stepped closer and closer, she felt lighter then heavier. It was as if she was fading in and out of her body; out of existence.

When they pried her out of my hands, the noise came in a little. It was as if when I was holding her the only sound that mattered was knowing she was still breathing. Feeling it.

Foreign hands laid her on the stretcher, wheeled her into the box. I stood there watching until someone's face flooded in front of my eyes.

"You coming?"

It took me a million years but I nodded and climbed in. I watched them and gulped down a strangled cry when they ripped open her shirt. I stared at her bra when they pressed the paddles to her skin, molding them together. It wasn't in a perverted sort of way. I just couldn't look as they made her chest jump. I found it some what ironic that they used a torture device to bring someone back to life. There was an intricate weave of black and red. I tried to follow the lines out of the maze. It led me to her face. Her mouth was twisted in pain. I leaned in closer. Were my eyes playing games with me? I could have sworn…I pressed my hand to the side of her thigh. I felt fingers twist and encase mine.

It happened again. Her eyes opened to reveal the sharpest soul and the softest brown.

They finally let me see her after she came out of surgery. She looked smaller, somewhat ironic since she was definitely more covered under that heavy blanket. She had a tube coming out of her nose, a sight that was both relieving and saddening. I leaned against the door frame; satisfied to watch but also hungry for more. I quietly stepped up to her bed. Her mouth still hadn't gone back to normal. I leaned in, kissing her forehead instead. She was safe. From death. But not from me. So I walked away.


End file.
